


Taako Fights the Apocalypse With a Cricket Bat and Sheer Spite

by andicanthelpfallinginlovewithyou



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Bird box au but like less gross about mental illness, Gen, Multiple chapters im just twchnologically incompetent, You know how almost everyone dies? Not in this house bud, blupjeans have an adopted daughter, child endangerment, i sacrificed three nights of sleep for this monstrosity so yeah, sibling feels, taako is blind, taako’s not great at taking care of kids, the ship stuff is mostly background
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-09-29 11:52:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17202932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andicanthelpfallinginlovewithyou/pseuds/andicanthelpfallinginlovewithyou
Summary: Taako had a twenty-seven-year-long record of dealing with the shit his life threw at him. He could handled the apocalypse, why not? Hell, he was thriving.Until they planned to leave their safehouse. Until they planned to row down the river into certain death, with two kids in tow. Until everyone decided to risk everything for an imaginary promised land.Until he had to leave his sister behind.





	1. Chapter 1

Lup barged into his house like she usually did: loudly, and with much gusto. “Good morning!” she sing-songed, kicking the door shut. The fridge opened, and her voice floated up the stairs: “Taako, you literally have no food!”

He sighed, trying to remember where he had left his cane. Probably leaning against the closet door. In all likelihood, Lup would force him to go outside, to take a walk. Recently, she had taken to babying him, for some unfathomable reason. A mothering instinct, perhaps, now that she and Barry were fighting the adoption agencies and their varying criterias to adopt a baby. 

He heard something new, a babbling sound. He nearly fell down the stairs in his rush to get to the kitchen. 

“You won?” 

”Yep!” Lup shifted her weight. The baby was babbling quietly, shaking a rattle of some sort. “Come say hi to her.”

He made a face and shook his head. “Uh-uh. Babies aren’t my style.” He opened the fridge and reached for the half-empty bottle of orange juice that lived in the back corner. Lup and Barry had been battling the adoption agencies for about nine months now, and now that they had their little bean, Lup sound like she was probably the happiest she had ever been. “I’ll say hi when she becomes a loud, rebellious teenager.” He took a swig of orange juice and ignored Lup’s pointed silence. He’d already told her that he would be a detached uncle, at best. 

“Ugh, you’re such a killjoy. Isn’t that right, Mo?” The baby cooed, and Lup giggled, coupled with a small groan. The baby must have tugged on one of her braids. “Ouch, honey, that hurts.” 

“You’re naming her after a horse?” He took another swig. “That’s a weird call, Lu.” 

She ignored his jab, humming as she began to sway on the spot. “We have a routine check-up at the clinic, would you like to come along? The lab tech is definitely your type.”

“I’m not meeting boys at the clinic, Lup, I have some standards.” That, and the past relationships he had participated in had been disappointing, at the very least. “Where’s Barry?” 

“Getting you groceries, since you apparently don’t want to get them yourself.” She paused, and stopped swaying. “Just say hi a little, Taako. It can’t hurt.” 

He groaned dramatically and felt his way over, holding his arms out. After the baby was deposited in his arms, he made a point to appear as grumpy as possible. 

She was a very affectionate baby, reaching up and touching his face. When he gave in and ducked his face down for her, she giggled and planted a kiss on his cheek. Holding back a smile, he gently took her little hand and blew a raspberry against her palm. She squealed in delight and pressed her face against his cheek. 

“Hm. I guess she’s alright.” 

The baby squealed again.

-

Taako had regained his mobility exceedingly fast between their seventeenth birthday — when the incident had happened — and their twentieth. He had memorized every step between his home and the grocery store, the bus stops, the train station, the clinic, everywhere. For seven years, he made himself as knowledgeable about his environment as he could. 

Now that he was stumbling through the streets, only his cane and his straining ears to guide him, he wished Lup was there to help him. 

It had seemed to fall apart all at once, nothing and then everything, each loud, grisly death a myriad of bright, painful sounds that made his mouth taste like bile.

He had waited for the screams and gunshots and explosions to fall into a dull roar, clenching his cane until he couldn’t feel his fingers. And then he stood, shaking and scared, collecting the things he thought he might need. 

Food, water, spare parts for his cane, all stuffed into a backpack, slung over his favourite overcoat. Going out, he’d normally change into not pyjamas, but he couldn’t quite stomach the thought of shedding his soft, fleecy sleepwear.

When he stepped outside, he could hear crackling fire, could smell it on the air. The clinic wasn’t far from his suburban house, he knew the way: thirty paces to the end of the block, turn right and continue on for eighty, and so on. Lup would have stayed where it was safe, she wouldn’t put herself or the bean in danger. So, she was probably still in the clinic, waiting it out. Barry was smart, he knew how to hold his own with this stuff. 

_Nothing to worry about,_ he told himself. _She’s safe. They’re all safe. You’re going to walk into that clinic and find her waiting for you, and then you can figure out what the fuck to do about the fucking apocalypse, together._

He was at least halfway there when he heard muffled shouts, slamming against a closed door: “There’s someone out there!” The voice was faint, male, to his left, and he paused, his cane poised to keep walking. The voice was closer, a door no longer blocking him: “Hey, hey! Get inside, follow my voice!” 

He gritted his teeth and kept walking. 

“It’s not safe, please, I’m trying to help you! Get inside!” 

“I’m finding my sister, fuck off!” he shouted back. His voice wasn’t nearly as biting as he would have liked. 

“Here, birdie birdie birdie!” This voice was female, mid-thirties, sounded a little like a soccer mom. He couldn’t move, straining to assess the danger, gripping his knife harder and harder until his knuckles popped.

Something rustled, to his right, and the dead leaves rattled as they shifted across the ground. _That’s not right,_ he thought. _It’s spring, there weren’t dead leaves yesterday-_

Someone grabbed him and threw him over their shoulder. With a yell, he dropped his knife and tried to hit whoever was touching him. The man didn’t obey his commands to release him until they entered a house, quite a cavernous one by the acoustics that echoed his shouting. 

He was almost ashamed to admit that he was near tears when the big man put him down. “Don’t do that!” he yelled. “Don’t do that, I was looking for someone, you had no right to do that!” 

“Taako?” 

He froze. A solid, gravelly voice, one usually accompanied by solid, heavy footsteps. He could feel them, through the hardwood floor-

“Barry!” He was running, towards the voice, paying no mind to the layout of the unfamiliar house, crashing into soft bodies and hard walls until he collided with a warm, solid chest. “Barry, what’s happened, where’s Lup?” He choked back a sob. “Where’s Lup and Mo?” 

“Upstairs, Taako, it’s okay, they’re both safe- take my arm, I’ll lead you, okay?” An elbow touched his bicep, and he looped his hand around it with perhaps more force than necessary. Barry’s voice spoke over his head. “Magnus, will you get him a glass of water? As cold as you can get it.” 

“On it.” The big man, Magnus, brushed by him on his way to — presumably — the kitchen. 

Barry spoke soothingly, leading him forward. He held his cane tightly, keeping it out of the way. “Two sets of stairs, ten steps each. There’s a landing, turn to your three o’clock and keep going.” 

It took all of his restraint not to crash through the foreign landscape to find his sister. Focussing on Barry’s voice helped, the soothing, unthreatening tones, like the deep notes on a piano, striking deep gold sensations in the back of his mind. 

Another voice joined the fray after what seemed like hours, this one painting swooping lines of green-gold cursive: “Taako?”

“Lup!” He briskly navigated the room, following the sounds of a fussy baby and Lup’s voice. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, Taako.” 

He itched to hug her, but hesitated. “Where’s the bean?” He didn’t want to sit on her, considering all the work Lup and Barry had gone through to adopt her. 

“She’s on my left side, you can sit on my right.” She shifted over, the sheets whispering under her. “Sit.” 

He inched onto the mattress, accepting her tired, one-armed hug. 

“What happened?” He was hardly aware of his own voice.

“We’re not sure,” she said gently. “We- we didn’t see-“ 

“You didn’t see?” he asked. “The Goddess gave you a functioning pair of eyes, and you didn’t _see?_ ”

“Oh, _shut up,_ Taako,” she snapped. The little bean whined, and Lup took a moment to soothe her. “We didn’t see, because if you do see it, you die.”

“It makes you kill yourself,” Barry said flatly, from somewhere near the doorway. His steps moved around the bed, sitting on her left side. “From what I can tell, at least.” 

Taako sat on that for a moment, clawing his wrist. “So, now what? Those- those things are out there, now what? We’re just trapped?” 

Heavy footsteps treaded up the stairs, and the floorboards creaked as a new body entered the mix. “Taako?” Magnus’s voice was soft, like he was talking to a spooked horse. “I’m sorry for grabbing you, earlier.” 

He didn’t deign to answer, holding his hand out for the water. The glass was practically frigid, just the way he liked it. 

Magnus still hovered. “It’s just that- I saw one of those people out there. She looked like she was stalking for stragglers. She was coming for you.” 

“What do you mean?” he asked. There was a silence, in which meaningful looks were surely exchanged. He cleared his throat. “May I remind everyone present that I am a rational, consenting adult and I deserve to be privy to the details of the apocalypse?” 

Barry cleared his throat. “Some people are- immune, in a way. They are affected, but their instinct isn’t to take their lives. Instead, it’s like they’ve been brainwashed into a cult. Their goal seems to be infecting as many people as possible.”

Taako ruminated on that. A baby started crying, and it wasn’t the little bean. It was coming from downstairs. Sounded colicky, too. 

Barry’s voice was warped with some smothered emotion, muffled by how he covered his face with his hands. “That’ll be Lucretia and Angus. Goddess, this is a mess.” 

Lup drew in a shuddering breath. Mo whimpered.

The infant continued to wail. They’d need food, for the little ones. Formula. Lots and lots of food, clothes and water and medicine. 

He massaged his forehead. Barry’s words were poignant, as always. It seemed that they were well and truly fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taako’s not loving the apocalypse, and he and the kids have a Real Bad Time

“That’s all of them,” Taako said, listening to Davenport pull down the last of the drapes. As he turned, he couldn’t perceive any sunlight coming through the windows. “Sighted people are now free to take off their blindfolds.” 

Everyone sighed as they pulled down their blindfolds — Merle wore an awful chartreuse mask, or so Lup told him — and they all took a moment to look around and marvel at the wonder of an abandoned grocery store like it was a goddamn museum. 

Taako banged on the metal thing by the door with his cane. “Let’s get a move on, folks.” 

They split into three groups: Davenport and Lucretia on their own, and Merle paired with Taako. Merle led him through the aisles with the occasional gruff question about cooking, but otherwise maintained a terse silence. 

Merle had been a preacherin his past life, with an unhealthy obsession with raising plants. Two kids, one ex-wife. He had been driving when it all went down, had been t-boned by a souped-up truck that careened into the ditch, and dragged from the wreckage by Magnus. 

The house they had claimed was Davenport’s. Taako hadn’t much cause to explore beyond the main floor and the area around Lup, Barry, and Mo’s bed, but he could say for certain that the architecture was impressive. High ceilings, judging by the acoustics, balconies and lofts, exposed brick walls, lots of windows. Of course, they had to board up all the windows, but in another life he would have killed to live in such a house. 

At the back of the store, Lucretia had apparently found baby supplies.

As she told it, she had been visiting a family friend when the apocalypse hit. Angus’ grandfather had been a fine man, apparently, and he had placed Angus in her arms before his death. She didn’t like to talk about it, and occasionally Taako ran into her in the middle of the night, sobbing quietly in the living room. He usually left her alone, well aware of his inability to assist with emotional turmoil, but made sure to lull Angus back to sleep if he started fussing. He usually passed Magnus in the kitchen when he went back to bed, fetching a glass of water for her.

His mouth tasted like ass. He strode to where he remembered the toothbrushes being, clipping a wire rack when he neglected to use his cane. A clam-shelled package fell onto the floor, and as he instinctually stooped to pick it up, to put it back where it lived so he wouldn’t trip over it, his fingers recognized the bulges and the ridges of the product inside. 

Arms piled with nine radios, he followed Lucretia’s voice back to the baby aisle, occasionally bumping into shelves. He felt for the edge of the shopping cart she had snatched and dumped them in. 

“Hey, Taako, reusable diapers would be better, right?” 

“Asking the wrong guy, Luce.” He leaned against a shelf and opened a bag of what Merle assured him were salt and vinegar chips, and got a mouthful of Satan’s flavour: _ketchup._ “Merle, I’m gonna fucking kill you!” 

Merle’s cackles were faint. 

“You know I was supposed to be graduating today? The ceremony was at three. A bachelor of journalism. Instead I’m trying to figure out how to keep a six-month-old alive and survive the armageddon at the same time.” She bit into something and groaned in delight. “Hot diggity shit, that’s a baller cookie.”

“Lemme try?” 

“‘M handing you a box,” she warned, placing a carboard box into his outstretched hands. “Germs, you know.” 

He raised one eyebrow and shrugged, shaking the box. “What are these?”

He could hear a shit-eating grin in her voice: “Wagon wheels.”

He was sure to affect a disgruntled scowl before placing the box back into her shopping cart. “I’ve half a mind to be offended. This is garbage.” 

“Call it garbage all you like. Wagon wheels and fudge poptarts were my favourites growing up.”

Before he could retort, with extreme disgust, Lucretia squealed, having apparently found a treasure trove of supplies. 

-

The car smelled weird. He didn’t like it. Once he was sure that the garage door was closed, he jumped out of the car and moved to the trunk, hand trailing over the painted windows until he touched the button to pop open the hatch. He felt inside for one of the baskets they had stolen, hefting it into his arms and striding back inside the house. He could hear Barry swearing in the kitchen. Lup was reading a book to Mo and Angus, doing the voices and everything. He wondered if she knew that Hotel New Hampshire wasn’t a kid’s book.

He kicked something hard when he stepped into the kitchen, and swore loudly. “Who’s leaving shit on the floor?” he bellowed.

Barry sounded preoccupied. “Wasn’t me!” 

He scowled and felt for the object. It was an old file box, criss-crossed with smooth tape, filled with dusty books. “Magnus, stop leaving these stupid boxes everywhere!” He heard shuffling feet, creaking floorboards by the pantry. “I know you’re in here.” 

More shuffling. “Sorry, Taako.” 

He kicked the box moodily and stepped around it, setting the basket on the counter. By the clattering contents, he decided that this basket must have the radios and the canned formula. “Pass me the scissors.” 

Cold metal scissors were placed in his hands, handles first. He tore open the packaging, cataloguing how each button felt. There were multiple buttons, one dial, an antenna. He could hear someone pick up the paper instructions. 

“Two-way radio,” Barry read aloud. “Five channels. Uh, the dial is the button to turn it on. Try twisting it one notch to the,” he paused, and the paper rustled. “Right.” 

-

After twenty hours on the river, he was tired. The rushing water dulled his hearing like nothing else, an endless roaring grey in the back of his mind. Everything was damp and nothing was safe, not even for a moment. 

Angus and Mo were sitting quietly, as he had told them to, and he figured he could stand them hating him for the rest of their natural lives if they arrived safely. If- 

_When_ he saw the Lup and Barry and Mags and Lucy again, he’d apologize for traumatizing their kids.

The boat jolted, jerking him forward. He swore and began to row again. 

“How much longer?” Mo asked. 

“A while,” he huffed. He felt for his watch, a newfangled thing Lup had found for him when they looted the next house over, four years ago. It was on its last legs, and he constantly counted down the minutes until he ran out of batteries. Even now, its electronic voice was weak and quiet. “Time for lunch,” he announced, throwing the blanket over the kids. He could detect a very faint change in light as he ducked under the folds, but that was all. He could hear the kids pulling down their blindfolds.

“I miss Mommy,” Mo said. “And Daddy. And Lucy and Maggie and Uncle Dav and Uncle Merle.” 

“You miss that plant-fucker?” he asked, and winced. _Four-and-a-half-year-olds,_ he reminded himself. “I miss them too. We’ll meet up with them soon.” 

“How soon?” Angus asked. 

“I don’t know. Soon.” He grunted and pulled the oars with aching arms. “Eat your veggies. Your parents’ll kill me if you don’t.” 

He levered the oars into the boat, and reached into the bag for a can, probably tuna if the pull-off lid was any indication. 

Just as he was about to pop open the can, he heard something. A voice.

“Get down,” he hissed, pushing the kids into the bottom of the boat. “Don’t move.” 

“Hello?” someone called. “Hello?” Another pause. “You look tired.” 

He listened carefully. Only one: harbingers usually stayed by the Hunger, if they didn’t travel in groups of other harbingers. Over the roar of the water, he could hear dead leaves whispering, and whispers of a different kind, an amalgamation of voices that caressed his ears with oily persistence.

He couldn’t recall ever being as pissed off about anything as he was about the dead leaves. He could hear them just fine, but no one else seemed to be able to. They could hear the whispers, but by then they were at a disadvantage. Only he seemed to be able to hear the leaves.

“You can take your blindfolds off,” the voice continued. 

“Do. Not,” he hissed, leaning down, his hand grasping a small shoulder, the other hunting along the bottom of the boat for a weapon. “Don’t listen to him.” 

“You kids wanna see a baby deer?” 

He found for the pistol Lup had left in the boat at the beginning of this stupid journey. Felt for the safety, clicked it off. 

“Come to me, kids!”

He straightened up, brandishing the gun and firing wildly, aiming for the voice. It only grazed, unfortunately. The man was wading through the water, towards the boat. He fired again, and missed. 

“Oh.” The man sounded disappointed. “You can never see.” 

“Damn right,” he growled, firing again. Missed again. His other hand reached for his cricket bat.

“But you kiddies can. Why don’t you take a look?” 

The man grabbed him, tried to wrestle him out of the boat. He screamed, swinging wildly and hitting air. The man was yelling too, and just one of his hands was large enough to encircle his throat. 

He swung again. He hit flesh, a soft abdomen. He swing again, cracking a skull, and the man released him. He swung again for good measure, breaking a nose.

The boat began to move again. Taako sat up, feeling for the oars, the gun held between his knees. 

The man moaned, either in pain or sadness. “The Hunger is beautiful,” he cried, his voice carrying away on the wind. “It’ll cleanse us all! You only have to _look!_ ”

-

Taako didn’t stop rowing for hours, not until night fell and his stomach rumbled noisily for missing food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the story fleshed out pretty well by now, but I have no idea how many chapters it’ll be or how often I’ll update.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year! 
> 
> The seven make a decision. Taako has to leave someone behind.

“If we all go together, we can row in shifts,” Lucy said. Her weight shifted next to Taako, and he relaced his fingers around his cane’s grip. “We just need a big enough boat.”

“We’d need a fucking yacht for all of us,” Merle said gruffly. “Seems like we ought to send teams. Three each. Magnus, Lucretia, and Angus, Lup, Barry, and Mo, and me, Dav, and 

“Why do I have to ride with you, plant-fucker?” 

“Taako, be nice.” Lup always sounded weary these days. Her steps were heavier, too, since she carried Mo everywhere and Mo was growing like a weed. “Should we even risk it? It could be a trap.” 

“If we stay, we will starve. Dav’s math is right on the money: we run out of food next week.” There was a sharp sound, Magnus using his pointer thing to point at something. “Our best chance is to find this place.” 

“How do you propose we navigate the rapids?” Taako asked coldly. “I refuse to leave if any of you plan on putting yourselves in danger. We should find another way.” 

“Taako, there is no other way.” 

He crossed his arms and chewed on his lip. They were right, there was no way that was faster than the river. They certainly couldn’t _walk,_ as much as he might like to. “I don’t like this.” 

“You said the voice was familiar, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah, an ounce of deja vu is not going to make me love this plan, Mags.”

Davenport sighed. “I say my team goes first, radio in as often as possible, scout the way before we risk the kids. If there’s camps of harbingers staking out the banks, we can warm the rest of you beforehand.”

He could feel everyone shudder at the word ‘harbinger.’ They had been a problem since the beginning, but no one could figure out how to dispose of them, or even what made them immune. Only Barry could pose a workable hypothesis, that apparently every harbinger he had come across had possessed double eyelashes, a rare genetic occurrence, and he said that harbingers shared some genetic similarities that made them immune.

Subconsciously, he touched the scar on his lip. Turned out, if a harbinger encountered a blind survivor, they would do the Hunger’s job to the best of their ability. It didn’t help that they always travelled in packs.

Lup grabbed his elbow, anchoring herself. “I’m sorry. I can’t be away from Taako that long.” 

He held back a relieved sigh.

“I’ll go,” Magnus said. “Me, Dav, and Merle. We’ll radio in at regular intervals, on channel three.” 

Lucy was stress-chewing, gnawing on her fingertips. Everyone’s clothes rustled as they shifted uncomfortably. They had all taken to wearing thicker clothing, and those with no fashion sense to lose — cough, cough, Barry — wore double denim all the time. Lup seemed to be infected by this jean virus as well. He almost couldn’t blame them; denim had protected him from many cow bites as a teenager.

With no arguments presenting themselves, Davenport sighed. “We’ll set out tomorrow. We don’t know how long we have here as it is. Once we find out if it’s safe, the other teams can set off at the same time.” 

No one seemed happy. Taako still couldn’t remember how he knew the radio man’s voice. 

-

Three days passed, with no word. Four days, their food dwindling, still no word. By the fourth evening, Lup put her foot down and told everyone that they would leave at daybreak. 

With packs weighed down by food and blankets, blindfolds fastened for those who needed them — Lup made him wear his too, seeing as it might give him a few more seconds if he was caught by the harbingers — the six that remained made their way to the river. Lucretia and Lup went first, setting up the boats and positioning them for a quick getaway. Barry, Taako, and the kids sat between the house and the river, obscured by the forest that grew in the absence of civilization. Once the boats were prepped, Lucretia would come back and fetch them, and they’d be able to leave. One kid per boat, Taako and Lucretia with Angus, and Lup and Barry with Mo. 

Taako held his bat tightly, shivering through his fleeces. Angus was shivering just as violently, had burrowed into his side with a cold nose. Mo hadn’t forgiven him yet, and so stayed near Barry. 

Something banged, like a car backfiring. Barry tensed beside him. Taako reached for his shoulder, quietly shushing him and passing Angus off to him. He stood before Barry could stop him, ignoring his hissed pleads. 

He double-checked his decoy blindfold before creeping back to the clearing, his steps precise and sure. A car engine revved from not-so-far off. Someone was driving like they could see.

He froze as the car revved into their lot, screeching to a halt before him. He still couldn’t move as the car doors opened and slammed shut, and the harbingers whooped. He wished he had the gun, but Barry had insisted that he hold onto it. He gripped his bat, hoping it would be enough.

“Hiya, stranger!” This voice was deep and hammy, like a small-town mayor. “Why don’t you take your blindfold off?” 

“No thank you,” he gritted out, clutching his bat until his knuckles popped. “You’re not welcome here. Please leave.” 

“The Hunger is coming, friend. It’s beautiful. Like a book you never want to put down.” 

“Books don’t do it for me. Does the Hunger have an audiobook? Maybe a podcast?” 

He could practically hear him scowling. “Take off the blindfold.” 

A new voice spoke, this one young and wavering. “Gene, I think I hear something-“

“Alright!” Taako yelled, a tad too high-pitched for his liking. He almost didn’t care, desperate to hold their attention. “I’m taking off the blindfold! I’m going to see the Hunger!” 

Gene sounded far more excited about his declaration than the possibility of new prey. “Do it, friend.” 

He slowly pulled apart the knot at the back of his head, keeping his eyes shut tight. Slowly, he pulled the fabric from his eyes, extending his hand. He dropped the fabric on the ground, made sure to sell it with the fluttering eyes. 

There was a period of pregnant silence before Gene swore. “He’s blind, search the woods!” 

He lunged for the voice, cracking his cricket bat against bone. Gene fell with a low groan, soon masked by the shouts of the others, five in total. 

Someone grabbed his elbow. He swung wildly and broke what sounded like a nose. Another body fell. He swung again, cracking a jaw. Another hit the ground. He swung, and again, and again, until no more hands accosted him. 

He turned and ran back to Barry, stopping when his bat clanged against the rusted metal spigot, sending irritable vibrations up his hand. “We gotta go,” he hissed, pulling Barry to his feet. The kids didn’t protest, one of them latching onto his coat. 

Barry grabbed his shoulder, keeping his voice low. “The boats aren’t ready yet, we gotta stick to the plan-“

“The plan went out the window five minutes ago, Barry! I just pissed off five people who can see where they’re going!” 

Something moaned. He froze. Someone was getting up. The dead leaves were coming, and a gun cocked. Barry thrust one of the kids into his arms. “Run!” 

He took off at a dead sprint, dragging the other kid by his wrist, counting his steps and leaping down the steps. He counted the steps down to the gravelly bank, swinging his bat wildly until he hit a boat. His cane rattled in the bottom.

“Lup? Lucretia?” 

No answer. 

He spun around, listening hard, shushing the kids. “Barry?” 

No answer. 

Gunshots. One, two, three. Angus whimpered.  
He set the kids into the boat, pushing them down flat and throwing a blanket over them. He dared only three steps back up the shore, his cane shaking in his hand as he swung it left and right.

“Lup? Lup, where are you?” 

He could hear shouting. Barry was yelling something, calling for the others. More gunshots, _where’s my family?_ Rustling leaves, oppressive whispers- 

Heavy footsteps, slow and leisurely down the stairs. He backed up until the backs of his legs hit the cold metal boat. He reached down slowly, dropping his cane inside the dinghy, one ear trained on the approaching figure.

“You got kids, huh? Why don’t you stop being silly and let them see, hm?” 

“Keep your blindfolds on,” he growled. He reached for the revolver Lup would have left in the bottom of the boat, felt the cold sting against his hands. 

Someone grabbed his shoulder. “Give them to me-“ 

He pressed the muzzle against the man’s taut stomach and fired twice. Blood sprayed him, and the body crumpled with a crunch of gravel. 

For a moment, he could only wheeze. And then, frantic, covered with blood and maybe guts and feeling like a guitar string about to snap, he pushed the boat onto the water and climbed in, groping for the oars and paddling as hard as he could. 

Hours later, he still couldn’t make himself wonder of what it meant, that no boat was following him, no voices were calling for him, that the gunshots came to an abrupt end, yet no cars roared off in search of more people to infect.

He deflected the questions the kids demanded of him, shoving cans of food into their little hands.


	4. Chapter 4

He could hardly remember the last time he genuinely needed his cane. Certainly not in the last four-ish years, not after he had trained the others to pick up after themselves and not to rearrange the furniture. By the sixth month of living in Davenport’s house, he had the floor plan memorized.

But now he did, and he recalled now why he enjoyed it. His cane was weighted perfectly in his hand, and if he focussed on it he could pretend that he was in a park, or something. That the apocalypse had never happened. That he wasn’t raiding a house with wind-chimes for blankets. 

His cane hit aluminum siding, and he felt along the house until he ran into the porch. The wind-chimes were hanging somewhere to the left of the door, and on a whim he reached out and batted the bamboo pieces, just to hear them chime. It was nice. 

Indoors was musty and gross. His cane hit something metal, a hospital bed frame. He frowned and felt over the bed springs, frowning harder the more beds he encountered. Someone had stripped the mattresses and blankets in their escape. 

He sighed, venturing further into the house. Eventually, he found himself in a kitchen area, judging the sounds the machines made when he ran into them. 

The shelves were bare that he could tell, but for three cans. He scowled and stuffed them into his pockets, hoping they were edible. Angus and Mo would know. They were smart kids. 

Nothing else. He bit down on his frustration, finding some solace in that they had supplies for another two days, if they were thrifty. He could go without, stretch it on a day or two. As he was planning, walking briskly back to the boat, counting his steps, dead leaves rattled by him. 

He froze. He had encountered the creatures before, he knew that they couldn’t hurt him, but they could still almost touch him, leaving behind pink marks like a rash. 

“Taako?”

That was Lup’s voice. The others said that they always heard their loved ones’ voices. Lucretia could hear Angus’ grandfather, her parents. Barry could hear his mother. Merle could hear his kids. Magnus could hear his wife. Davenport could hear his parents, his siblings. 

He levelled his breathing. _Lup isn’t here,_ he told himself.

“Taako, Taako, I need help-“

And just like that, it was gone. He let out a wheezy breath. Allowed himself no time to recover, forced himself to run to the boat. The Hunger was either alone or in a group, and if it was alone it was probably hungry.

He could hear the kids, and forced himself to run faster. 

No, he could hear Angus. He was whimpering. 

“Angus, you gotta be quiet,” he whispered, trying for a soothing tone as he groped for the oars. “Mo, stay close-“ 

“She went to find you,” he whispered. “She wanted to help you.” 

A rope was shoved into his hands. It moved sluggishly, like someone was on tbe other end.

-

His memory of getting onto the river was spotty at best. He could hear Mo trying to explain herself, and once he was certain that they were on the rught current, he grabbed her shoulders.

“Don’t ever do that again, you understand me?” She didn’t whimper, didn’t cry. “I can handle myself, and if I can’t, I definitely can’t save you! If I’m gone, you save yourselves!” 

Her voice was flat. “Yes, Koko.”

“What do you think could have happened to Angus when you left him behind? He could have died, and where would you be then?” She whimpered. “You stay beside each other no matter what!” He was crying, he distantly realized. “You stay with your brother, you stay with him! Do you understand me?” 

Now Mo sounded tearful. “Yes, Koko.”

He released her like he had been burned, seizing the oars. “Good,” he said hoarsely. “Good.” He sniffed, and wiped his eyes. “Get some sleep.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taako isn’t great with kids.

Mo was about four when she actually asked why he was blind. Lup had volunteered to explain it to her, carrying her off to the living room to do so, and he stepped outside, against the advice of literally everyone.

The well was twenty paces from the back door. Turning to two o’clock and walking ten more paces would lead him to the seven steps down to the gravelly riverbank. He had made the walk so many times that he left his cane behind, more often than not. Davenport said the river was almost perfect for fly-fishing, whatever that meant. Five paces into the water, a large rock jutted out of the water. The sun warmed the dip in its crest, and he liked to sit and listen to the river.

The others knew where he went, even if they didn’t like it, and they knew where to find him if he was needed. He was free to spend long hours outside, soaking in the sunshine, eyes as wide as he could manage, just in case a harbinger should stumble upon him. 

The river’s crashing lulled him into a kind of trance, a trance he blamed himself for when he heard a painful-sounding splash. 

Seven feet to his right, there was an outcropping of unstable rocks, thoroughly tempting to climb when one was young and inexperienced. He had attempted to climb them, but only once; the stones moved too unpredictably for his comfort.

Right below, the water was deep, subject to a strong current, one that had almost tripped him up a few times. And now, a small body was thrashing in the river, and Mo’s voice was crying out as the cold water stung her.

He jumped into the water, straining to hear Mo’s screaming. One step, and his foot slid over an algae-slick crevice. He fell, careening into deeper water and feeling a small foot kick him in the stomach. He snatched for Mo, wrapping his fingers around the hood of her ratty parka, dragging her out of the current’s grasp. 

He carried her back ashore, slipping only once on the slick stones, and stormed up the beach, her blindfolded face pressed against his shoulder. She wheezed and coughed like a drowned cat, and he didn’t halt until they were inside. 

He fumbled in unzipping her parka and taking off her blindfold, wrapping her in a towel that he kept by the door. She was still shivering, but she’d be okay. 

Barry was in the kitchen, he could hear him over Mo’s whines. He stormed into the room and gingerly set her on the counter. “Tell your dad what you did,” he said shortly, struggling not to seethe directly at her. 

She shuffled anyway. “I followed Koko outside,” she said, far too sullenly. “I fell in the river.” 

Barry stopped breathing. “Mo, you know you’re not supposed to go outside, not without an adult.” 

“But I was with an adult! Koko was there!” 

Taako crossed his arms. He was soaked, and he just wanted to change his clothes before he caught his death, but this _fucking kid-_

“You know that doesn’t fly, kid. I know you know I can’t see.” 

“I thought it was okay!” she snapped back.

“You could have died! Your blindfold could have fallen off! And if that happened, there’s nothing I could have done to save you! There’s nothing any of us could have done! What do you think your mom and dad would do then, Mo?” 

Mo was crying. He winced; he hadn’t meant to do that.

A hand landed gingerly on his shoulder. “Taako, you should go cool off.” And then, lower this time: “I expect you to apologize. You’re a grown man.” 

-

He could hear Mo shuffling angrily as he stepped into the kids’ bedroom, a braille book clutched in his hands. 

“I want Mommy to read the story,” she said. He could imagine that she was crossing her arms like Lup did, when they were younger. 

“Unfortunate,” he muttered, taking a moment to read the title of the book. Lup had shoved it into his hands while he was pacing outside the kids’ bedroom, trying to figure out how to apologize to Mo. The book she had handed him was Fahrenheit 451. He tucked it under his arm and sat down on the floor, his cane set over his knees as he slouched. “Mo, will you hear my apology?” 

There was moment of silent conference between Mo and Angus. “I will.” 

“I’m sorry I shouted at you. It wasn’t kind and it certainly wasn’t good for you. I will try harder in the future.” He tilted his face upwards. “Sometimes I forget that you two are so little. You act so grown-up sometimes, its hard to believe it’s only been three and a half years.” He paused, chewing on his lip. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. But it won’t ever happen again.” 

After a moment, Mo’s aloof little voice said: “Alright. I don’t forgive you, but I’m not as mad anymore.” The bedsprings squeaked as she moved off of her bed, matched by Angus’ bed, and the two of them sat with him. Angus was leaning against his side, Mo sitting directly before him. 

“What story were you gonna read us?” 

“Not this.” He set down the book. “Let me tell you a story about Grandpa Tostaada’s farm. He was old, old as fuck, and he taught us how to the ride the horses. Your mom was _obsessed_ with those things.”

-

He didn’t stop talking until the two were snoring, sitting completely still while Lucretia stepped inside and carried them off to bed. When she breathed in, preparing to ask him if he wanted to kiss them goodnight, he was already gone, power-walking down the hallway.


	6. Chapter 6

They had a pet, at the house.

She was a magnificently-coloured parakeet, or so Lup claimed. Barry had brought her back on their third raid, in an abandoned house. Lup had immediately named her Starblaster, to the dismay of everyone but the happy three-year-olds that roamed the house. 

Star — he refused to call her Starblaster, even if he did get the reference — was a quiet bird most of the time, except when she heard the Hunger. She was like an alarm system, perfectly content one moment and terrified out of her mind the next. 

There had been a fair amount of argument over who would take her in their trying journey. Magnus wanted one of the ‘kiddie ferries’ to take her, so they’d have an extra layer of protection over Taako’s acute sense of hearing and relative immunity. Lucretia thought that his boat should take her, arguing that they might gain some insight to how the Hunger worked if they had Star with them. 

In the end, Lucretia won the argument. Taako had been sad to hear her go, chirping sadly from her shoebox. She was a good bird, even if she did make a stink every time someone was half a minute late feeding her. 

He reached down and gently felt for the kids, made sure the blanket still covered them. He leaned back and sighed, letting the current carry them a little faster than he could row-

The rapids. The rapids were coming up soon.  
He nudged them awake, ducking under the blanket.

“We’re coming up on the rapids. It’s very dangerous. When we were planning this, we planned for two grown-ups for each of you, but we don’t have that luxury.” He chewed on his lip. “Someone has to look. Someone has to tell me which way to go.” 

The blanket rustled, and he could imagine that they were looking at each other like he and Lup used to. “I don’ get it,” Mo said. “You said never to take off the blindfolds.” 

“I know what I said,” he snapped. And then he winced. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be angry. I know that I said not to take off your blindfolds, but someone has to.” He squeezed his eyes shut. 

“I’ll do it,” Mo said, brave little Mo, always ready to explore and learn and take risks, too much like Lup and Barry for her own good. 

“No, no, I’m the one who chooses,” he told her sharply. He didn’t know why he said that. How could he possibly choose? How could he possibly allow himself to risk one of his charges?

The silence seemed to stretch into infinity. He chewed harder on his lip. 

“Both of you, get on your knees and hang onto the bench. Keep your blindfolds on.” 

“But-“ 

“I know. So help me, the Goddess can afford one more miracle.” He leaned forward and caught them in a quick hug. “It’ll be okay. The cane is lucky.” 

-

The cane seemed to have run out of luck. Either that, or he had pissed off the Goddess enough to make Her actively try to kill him. To be fair, he could deal if that was the case, but his death would herald the other two’s as well. So, he’d have to power through, for now. 

He shivered in his damp clothes, dragging Mo ashore, following the sound of Angus’ bell. He forced himself to stand on stiff legs, holding Mo under one arm like a briefcase. She didn’t mind.  
He flailed, and found Angus’ hand. Angus was wheezing, close to panic. He felt over his eyes, thanking their lucky stars that his blindfold hadn’t fallen off. 

“Angus, Angus, I need you to breathe with me,” he instructed, kneeling before him. “Breathe with me. Four in, five out, okay? Count with me.” He cupped his cheeks, wiping away his tears.

They counted together, inhaling and exhaling together, until Angus’ wheezes faded. 

“There we go. You’re doing so good, both of you. We just need to walk a little more, and we’ll be safe.” He hoped. “Listen, hear that? Hear the birds?” 

“There’s so many,” Mo mumbled. 

“Mm. Listen closely to them, we’re going towards them. Okay?” 

Angus nodded jerkily. “Okay.” 

“Okay, Koko.”

“Good. Good, let’s go.” He stood, holding onto his cane — thankfully, that had survived the unplanned dip in the river — and walking forward. The bank had a steep incline, flattening out after seven steps. The birds’ cries were bright fuchsia and hot pink, relatively easy to follow. 

“Koko?” 

He paused, genuinely thrown. Lup hadn’t called him Koko in ages. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it. 

“Koko, help me!” 

He shook his head. _Lup isn’t here, this is a trick._ He held the kids closer, pressing Mo’s face against his coat. 

He stepped in a gopher hole, of all things. A combination of low blood sugar and lack of sleep contributed to the momentary loss of consciousness as he fell, before he bolted upright with a gasp and a sensation that he was definitely going to vomit. 

The kids were calling for him, and he was lost. He couldn’t hear the birds.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, constructive criticism is encouraged and appreciated, especially when dealing with this kind of subject matter. I’ve tried to treat the situation with respect both to the marginalized communities involved and the better aspects of the source material, but I’m not blind or mentally ill (i think) so if I’ve written something distasteful or offensive, feel free to tell me and I will correct it to the best of my ability. 
> 
> And, if the problem is not so easily fixed, I will delete this fic until such time as I am ready to write about these subjects. Thanks for reading!


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